Act of Desperation
by Titan5
Summary: When John is trapped without food or water, he must take drastic steps to free himself.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own or have any rights to Stargate Atlantis or its characters.

**Spoilers/Timing: **This takes place shortly after Sateda and contains several small spoilers.

Act of Desperation – Chapter 1

John Sheppard studied the knife in his right hand, gently rubbing his thumb against the hilt. He let his gaze wander beyond the knife to his right leg, huge rocks covering it from the knee down. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he told himself once again that this was the only way for him to survive. His strength was waning and it was pretty much now or never if he stood any chance of making it back to the jumper. He could do this, he just had to be strong and focus.

Lifting the leg of his pants, he cut through the fabric as far as he could, pulling the two edges apart to reveal the flesh just above the knee. He figured he could go in above the knee and then angle down under the kneecap to go between the femur and tibia. Coming up from below the kneecap would be easier, but the rocks were too close and he couldn't get to that area of his leg. This would have to do. Watching his hand shake, he focused on gaining some sort of control. He would have to be swift and firm, wholly dedicated to completing the task. The worse thing he could do would be to wimp out in the middle. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. His dry, chapped lips reminded him of how dehydrated he was, at the way he would die if he didn't get out of here now.

Opening his eyes, his resolution firm, he picked up the small stick he had previously wrapped in cuttings made from his shirt. He pulled the tourniquet at mid thigh tight and placed the stick between his teeth. Without hesitation, he pushed the knife into his leg and watched the red blood begin to flow sluggishly out around it as he sliced through the skin and into the tissue below, biting down hard on the stick as he tried to keep from passing out.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **You guys have absolutely blown me away with the reviews. Now that I've picked myself up off the floor, here's how John got himself into this mess in the first place.

Act of Desperation – Chapter 2

_Four days earlier -_

Elizabeth looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps to see John pause in the doorway to her office, silently asking for permission to come in. She smiled and waved him in as she sat back in her seat.

"So, are you managing to keep busy while your team recovers?" Elizabeth became uneasy as he took the chair across the desk from her. He seemed nervous and looked more disheveled than usual, as if he hadn't slept much lately. Purposely avoiding eye contact, he began pushing a paperclip around on the edge of her desk.

"I talked to Carson a while ago and he said it would be a few more days before Ronon is cleared for duty." He did manage a wry smile for his next comment. "I got the impression Carson might be afraid for his life on that call. Anyway, Rodney is still pretty sore, so it's just as well."

Elizabeth nodded, wondering where this was leading. "Yes, he pretty much told me the same thing earlier." She studied him, still absently spinning the paperclip as he chewed on his lower lip. She couldn't understand the troubled look on his face and it was beginning to make her nervous. "John, is something wrong?"

John looked up and smiled sheepishly, pulling his hand back into his lap. "No, nothing's wrong. Look, I was talking to Teyla and she thought that since we weren't going on a mission any time soon that she could visit her people on the mainland for a few days. I told her I didn't see any problem with that, but I'd check with you."

"Oh, well, I think that sounds like a good idea. I know she doesn't get to spend much time with them. I'm sure she misses them a lot."

John gave a small smile and nodded. "I think she's having a real sense of family right now, after seeing what happened to Sateda. I have another favor to ask. I'd like to take her and stay for a few days."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes a bit, relieved that they were finally getting to the issue that was making John nervous. "You want to stay with the Athosians?"

John sighed and shook his head, running one hand through his hair. "No, I, uh . . . I want to do some backpacking, by myself."

Frowning, Elizabeth leaned forward in her seat, as if getting closer to John would somehow increase her level of understanding. "You want to go wandering around in an unexplored wild area by yourself?"

John took a deep calming breath, trying to remember his prepared argument. "Elizabeth, I've done a lot of backpacking through rough country, some if it by myself. I know how to take care of myself. And I won't go that far from the Athosian settlement, I just need . . . I just need some alone time right now." How could he tell her that he needed to be alone to reevaluate his emotional barriers? He'd realized at some point during that whole fiasco that he'd let these people in a lot further than he'd meant to and it had been scaring him ever since. He needed some time by himself, truly by himself, to sort and evaluate. He couldn't think of a better place to center himself than alone in the middle of nowhere.

He could almost see the wheels turning as Elizabeth studied him. "I guess it is virtually impossible to be by yourself around here. Someone is always dropping by or calling you. And things are pretty calm right now. I do want you to take your radio and stay in contact with us, in case the Wraith decide to attack or something equally inconvenient." She laced the last phrase with a bit of sarcasm as she grinned at him.

John returned her smile, his face relaxing as he realized she was letting him go. "I can do that. I'll go tell Teyla and we'll probably leave later this morning." He practically jumped from the seat and was at the door in two steps. He paused in the doorway, however, turning back to her. "Thanks."

Elizabeth simply smiled and nodded, and then he was gone. She wondered briefly if she should have suggested he talk to Kate about whatever was bothering him, and then laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought. She looked up to see two marines staring strangely at her as they passed by and she ducked her head a bit as she waved at them, knowing they probably thought the expedition leader was losing her mind. Shaking her head as she pulled her laptop closer, she wondered if perhaps they were right.

oOo

John stepped out of the back hatch of the jumper, his arms loaded with boxes of supplies as he walked along behind Teyla. He kept shifting the stack from one side to the other in an attempt to see where he was going. When Teyla stopped, he nearly ran into her back before realizing what had happened.

"You may put the boxes here," said Teyla, smiling at John as she watched him struggle to set the boxes down without knocking the stack over. When he finally stood up, after straightening the stack, he returned her smile.

"Anything else?"

"Teyla, Colonel Sheppard, it is good to see you." Halling walked up to them and paused briefly to touch foreheads with Teyla before turning to Sheppard. "You are both well, I hope."

"Yes, Halling, thank you," replied Teyla. "We have brought some medical supplies and other goods as you requested."

Halling glanced down at the boxes and nodded. "Thank you, and Colonel, I'd appreciate it if you'd pass our thanks along to your people. Your continuing aid makes the lives of our people much easier."

"We're more than happy to help whenever we can, but I'll be sure to pass your appreciation along to Dr. Weir and Dr. Beckett. Teyla, if you don't need me, I'm going to head up to the mountains and I'll see you in two days."

Teyla nodded once and smiled at John. "No, I have everything I need. Are you sure you will be all right by yourself?"

"Yeah, piece of cake. I used to do this kind of thing back on Earth all the time. I'm kind of an outdoorsy person and I'm looking forward to a little quiet, down time."

"Strong warriors and leaders need their time of quiet reflection," commented Halling, his expression one of acceptance.

John just shifted his weight and looked embarrassed before glancing back to Teyla. "I'll have my radio, so call if you need me. Otherwise, I'll see you in two days, sometime in the late afternoon. I'll call when I get close." John gave a mock salute and started to turn around, but Teyla grabbed him by the upper arms and held him firm as she leaned her head forward. John quickly realized what she wanted and returned the gesture.

"I hope you solve whatever problem is bothering you," she said solemnly as they separated.

John was taken aback at her perceptiveness, but realized he should have expected it. Teyla could read people like no one else, except maybe Elizabeth. "It's nothing, just need to get some stuff straight in my head. I'm fine." He smiled a little more broadly than he felt, hoping it was convincing.

Teyla looked anything but convinced. "I am honored you think of some of us as family. We think of you the same way, as you must know. As a family, we can help one another, just as we went to help Ronon. Not all obstacles and dangers are physical in nature."

John stood watching her, trying to figure out if she had somehow gotten in his head. He was pretty sure she could only connect to Wraith, but he was beginning to wonder. It was hard to imagine she had picked up this much from their nearly one-sided and very uncomfortable conversation on the Daedalus.

"Look, Teyla, I'm fine, really. I've always been a bit of a loner and sometimes I just crave some time to myself, preferably outside and far from civilization. And if you talk to Elizabeth, you can tell her to quit worrying as well. Nothing is wrong." He flashed her a crooked smile and turned, hurrying back to the jumper before she began to psychoanalyze him. He was relieved to finally hit the button closing the back hatch and become airborne again.

He flew for a while, just enjoying his time in the air while he simultaneously scanned the ground for a good site to land and start his hike. After a couple of hours, he finally circled back to a small clearing at the base of a series of small mountains to land the jumper. Loading his gear, he closed up the jumper behind him. He didn't see a need to cloak it and he was a little worried if he did, he wouldn't be able to find it again. They had seen no evidence of other humans anywhere on the planet, so he felt pretty safe.

He'd dressed in some old fatigues that were heavy enough to protect him from the rocks while being light enough so as not to overheat him. Besides, they had lots of pockets for stashing stuff. He wore an equally old T-shirt with _U.S. Air Force _stamped across the front. He had chosen to wear his sidearm, just in case, but left the P90 on the jumper. Laughing, he wondered why he'd even stuck the think in the jumper at all. Paranoia maybe? Shouldering a large pack with a bedroll and two days of supplies, he headed up the side of the mountain, already feeling like the fresh air and warm sun were clearing his head and relaxing his body. Feeling the tension begin to drain away, he was startled to realize just how much he had needed this.

oOo

John was amazed at the amount of stars he could see. The sky almost seemed alive with their twinkling light as he lay on his bedroll, staring up in awe. He was at the top of the mountain he'd been climbing, so he had a panoramic view of the sky and he hadn't been able to take his eyes from it for the last hour. He quickly decided that this was one of his favorite parts of camping out.

Letting his mind wander from the constellation possibilities in front of him, he thought back to one of the reasons he was here. Sighing, he admitted to himself that it was probably too late to fix the problem. He'd already let them get too close and he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to push them back. He wasn't even sure about when it had happened. All he knew at this point was that he'd give his life for any of them in a heartbeat. When they hurt, he hurt. When they were happy, he somehow was happy just because they were.

Sitting up, he rolled over onto his knees and placed another log on the fire, stirring it around with a long stick he'd been using to prod the flames along. He sat there, poking the fire for several minutes and wishing he'd brought some marshmallows. It had been a long time since he'd let anyone in and he hadn't intended to ever let it happen again. Mitch and Dex had been his last real friends, friends that he really felt a deep connection to. He'd failed them and they had paid with their lives and he'd been certain he would never recover. But he had. They were the last in trail of friends and family he had disappointed or failed entirely. Everyone was either dead or not speaking to him at the moment and he carried the burden of each and every failure like a heavy weight that sometimes threatened to drag him under for good.

He felt the deaths of those he was not close to as well, but they did not weigh as heavy on his heart and soul. They became part of a large, ghostly mass for the most part, haunting his dreams sometimes, but not to the point he couldn't function. Not like those he had loved. And now he had let it happen again. How long before Rodney or Teyla or Elizabeth or one of the others were killed? Ronon or Carson? The loss of Ford still tugged at his soul and he hadn't even let the kid all the way in. John ran his hand through his hair. He was tired and it was getting late and he knew he wasn't going to find any answers tonight, so he lay back down and looked at the stars one more time before closing his eyes for the night.

oOo

John stopped and looked at the side of the hill. He was nearly half-way up this one and he would probably make it by nightfall. He liked spending the nights in high country where he could almost see for forever. It had been around twenty four hours since his last human contact and he had enjoyed every minute of it. Not that he was a recluse. If he had to go much more than allotted two days, he'd start to get lonely. Two days were just about right for helping him get centered again without missing human contact.

Pulling out his canteen, he took a long drink before capping it again and letting his eyes fall to the ground in search of the best trail. A few feet ahead and to his right was an area that flattened out somewhat while still heading uphill. John shifted his pack and let it slide off his shoulders, setting it on the ground. Before he got started again, he wanted to find what had been stabbing him in the shoulder periodically and move it. Kneeling to the ground, he unzipped the top and peered in. He had just begun rummaging around when he heard what sounded like distant thunder. Looking up to the blue sky, he only saw a few wispy cirrus clouds in the distance and yet the rumble seemed to be getting closer. As the ground began to tremble, he suddenly knew what was happening. A rock slide.

Glancing around for some kind of cover, John could now see a cloud of dust above him and the earth was really beginning to shake under his feet. He finally saw a cluster of large boulders and rocks a few feet away and made a run for them. Ducking down behind them, he reached safety as the first of the rocks began making their lightning fast descent around him. He crouched as low to the ground as he could, but every so often the edge of a rock flying over him would catch his arm or shoulder, bruising him and leaving several cuts. Rocks from the side would sometimes bounce at an odd angle and hit him in the arm or leg. His head, chest, and stomach remained protected by his hunched position.

The deep rumbling had almost faded away, leading John to believe the slide was over. He slowly uncurled, thinking about how sore he was going to be over the next few days. It occurred to him he'd have to take a lot of teasing over going on a simple hike only to come back bruised and battered. He could almost hear Rodney giving him heck already. Peeking over the large rock, he both heard and felt the last few rocks coming down the slope at him and dived back into position. He heard the giant boulders crash into his cover just a few seconds later and was briefly aware of the explosive force of his hiding place giving way and crashing into him. And then there was nothing.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: ** I am so amazed by the response to this one, that I double timed it to get this chapter ready early. It's back to work tomorrow though, so no early posting for the next one. This is a good time to start apologizing for all the medical mistakes I'm sure to make. The internet only goes so far with this stuff, as some of you know. Oh, and I know they find Sheppard with the subcutaneous transmitter in Common Ground, but this is before that and we're going to pretend that the jumpers don't have that ability at this time. Otherwise, this story would be a lot shorter (LOL).

Act of Desperation – Chapter 3

Pain was his first awareness. Not sight or sound or touch, just pain. After a while, he began to try to figure out where the pain was coming from, but it seemed to be coming from almost everywhere. As thoughts began to form, he decided he wasn't in the infirmary. The light was too bright, creeping past his eyelids to annoy him and rush him back to the consciousness he wasn't ready for. Something hard protruded roughly into his left hip and side, as well as his right shoulder and upper back. Even the infirmary beds weren't this lumpy.

John shifted a little against the irregular objects underneath him, sending a blinding pain through his right lower leg. Sounds of things rolling off him left him to wonder about their origin. He lay panting for a few moments, the pain rushing forth in screaming clarity. Blinking and squinting against the light, he fought to get his eyes open and see how much damage had been done. He wasn't sure if he faded out or what, but suddenly he was looking up at the sky, wondering how long his eyes had actually been open.

John was lying on his back several feet from where he had originally crouched. The rocks he'd ducked behind were obliterated and he figured some of the debris around him came from them. Rocks of various sizes were scattered around him, underneath him, and on top of him, along with a coating of dust that left him with a tickle in his throat. He could feel it coming and he fought it all the way, because as near as he could tell, there wasn't an inch of him that wasn't bruised and cut or scraped. Losing the battle as he knew he would, he found himself caught up in a coughing fit that threatened to leave him unconscious again. When it finally dissipated, he laid back, panting once again and wishing he _was_ in the infirmary and Carson was there with one of his cocktails.

A few minutes later, he was able to brush some of the stones off his body and push himself up to a partial sitting position, leaning back against his elbows. He stopped short when he looked down at his legs and excruciating pain shot through his right one. The left leg was partially covered in small and medium sized rocks that he would be able to dislodge without much trouble. His right leg was going to be a problem, however. One extremely large rock and two more that were almost as large had his leg pinned firmly to the ground from the knee down. Now he knew why that leg hurt so much as least. It had to be broken, probably badly so. Leaning forward, he tried to dislodge one of the smaller boulders, but it didn't budge at all.

Leaning back on his hands, he studied the situation and felt a stab of fear race through him. The rock was so close to the ground that he at first thought his leg must be flattened, completely crushed beneath the weight of the gigantic chunk of stone. As he leaned forward and looked closer, however, he discovered a small fissure in the ground that his leg had gotten wedged in. He could tell by the feel the leg was broken, severely damaged by the stone, but it wasn't as bad as he'd first feared. Maybe it was fixable. Maybe. He shuddered at the thought of being crippled for the rest of his life.

As he calmed a bit, he became aware of his other injuries. An intense throbbing led his hand to upper left side of the back of his head. The hair was stiff in places and tacky in others, a nice bump in the center. John figured he likely had a concussion. Moving his hand around to his face, he found a cut just over his left eyebrow, with partially dried blood spread around the side of his face. A myriad of cuts and scrapes covered his arms and hands. All his injuries had stopped bleeding and the blood had had time to dry or at least get tacky, so he figured he'd been unconscious for a little while. Nothing seemed to be broken except for his leg.

Suddenly straightening, John checked for his radio, but it was missing. He frantically looked around, knowing he needed to call for help. The radio was nowhere to be seen, causing him to slouch in disappointment. Looking around, he also noticed his pack was gone, and with it, his food and water. Scanning the area surrounding him, he spotted it a good twenty feet down the slope, half buried by rocks. Looking back at the rocks trapping his leg, he spent the next half hour trying to free himself. Exhausted, he smoothed the ground behind him and lay back in the dirt, painfully aware that he hadn't so much as rocked the large boulders.

John sighed heavily. He was firmly trapped in place and injured. He had no food or water and no way to call for help. He wasn't due to pick up Teyla for over twenty four hours and, due to his insistence that he be left alone, no one would be contacting him. Once they figured out he was missing, they still had to find him because he had very ignorantly ignored protocol and not radioed in his location. John lay his arm across his eyes to block out the blinding sun. He was so screwed.

oOo

Picking his tray up, Carson glanced around the mess hall, looking for a place to sit. Sighting Elizabeth eating alone at one of the far tables, he made his way over to her and paused. "Mind if I join you?"

Looking up from her tray, Elizabeth smiled as soon as she saw him. "No, Carson, please sit down. I was actually feeling kind of lonely."

"Missing the Colonel?" he asked as he slid in beside her.

Elizabeth cocked her head a little to one side as she glanced over at him. "Yes, in a way. It's been quiet without him and Rodney getting out of one thing and into three. Usually, when they have this much down time without either of them being seriously injured, they've blown up a lab or gotten lost in the far reaches of the city or activated something dangerous by now. I keep waiting on that _there's been a disaster _call."

Carson laughed as he swirled his fork around in the casserole of the day. "Aye, they do have a habit of getting into messes. Have you talked to Teyla or the colonel since they left?"

"I've talked to Teyla a couple of times. She's enjoying her visit with Halling and her people. I think this was good for her. I know she wants to keep the ties strong. I haven't talked to John, though."

Carson stopped his fork and looked up at her. "You haven't spoken to the colonel at all?"

Elizabeth nodded, her expression growing slightly troubled. "No, I'm trying to honor his wishes. He said he needed some alone time, to think about some things without any distractions. He seemed . . . I don't know, he's been quiet since they got back from Sateda. I got the impression something was bothering him."

Carson finished chewing the bite in his mouth and swallowed. "Maybe you should suggest he talk to Kate."

Elizabeth smiled as she slid him a sideways glance. "And exactly what good do you think that would do?"

Carson nodded and sighed. "Point taken."

"Besides, I think I may know what's bugging him. Well, at least partially. The trip to Sateda was hard on Ronon, not just because he was being hunted, but because he was forced into facing the loss of his home and family. I get the impression he had a pretty happy life outside the Wraith."

Beckett nodded. "Yes, I believe he did. The Wraith took all that away, though."

"I know Teyla had her life with the Athosians, friends and family with her for most of her life. I have my mother and I had Simon for a long time. You have your mother. We have friends and loved ones."

Carson had given up all pretense of eating and just sat, looking at Elizabeth and trying to figure out where she was going with this.

"How much do we know about John?"

Carson shrugged his shoulders. "He's been in the Air Force a long time. He loves to fly. He was stationed in Afghanistan and then Antarctica and now Atlantis."

Elizabeth nodded. "Family or friends?"

Carson shrugged again. "I have no idea, other than Mitch and Dex, and we know they were killed."

"Exactly. Do you know when the alien entities made us think we were on Earth, we all had places to go and most of us had friends or family to see. John went to a made up apartment because he had nowhere and visited dead friends. He didn't send a message back to Earth when we were all sending videos to our loved ones because we thought we were about to die. There isn't anyone on his notify in case of death list. I honestly don't think he's had anyone close to him since Mitch and Dex died several years ago and I'm starting to think that's at least partially on purpose."

Carson looked down at his plate, thinking about things he'd seen in the past. "The lad does put up some pretty good walls when he tries."

Elizabeth nodded. "But then . . . he fought passionately for the right to go after Ronon. He's never been one to leave someone behind, but this was different. And when Kolya was here in the city, the look in his eyes when Kolya tried to take me through the gate. I don't know. I think maybe he's just realizing how much we've become a family here and I think, for whatever reason, that's scaring him. Something about the way he started acting after his team came back from getting Ronon."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Carson responded. "So, what do we do?"

Elizabeth let out a slow breath and then glanced over at Carson. "We give him a little space, like he asked, and then we show him that it's okay to care about others. It's good to be a family. And we let him know that he's part of our family too."

oOo

John lay looking up at the stars, a shiver running through him as the cool breeze slid over his skin. His shirt was still a bit damp with sweat and the night air was giving him goose bumps. Funny how looking at the stars had been so relaxing last night and was so disheartening tonight. He was exhausted from his intermittent attempts at extracting his leg during the afternoon and he was desperate for something to drink. He'd zoned out several times and he wasn't sure if that was from the bump on the head or his body responding to the fact that his leg was partially crushed. The pain varied in intensity, but was always there and it was beginning to wear him out.

He heard something moving around in the rocks above him on the slope. Small pebbles, dislodged by whatever was crawling around up there, came bouncing down the hill, peppering him with a spray of little missiles as he tried to cover his face. Remembering his sidearm, he drew his gun and pointed it up the hill.

"Hey, get out of here!" Whatever it had been, he heard it scurry away, sending down another shower of rocks. "And don't come back!"

The breeze picked up and he shivered again, sending an intense wave of pain stabbing through his leg. At the moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted a drink and a blanket.

oOo

He sat for a moment, staring at the canteen, unable to believe it had been this close the whole time and he hadn't seen it. With the rising sun, the temperatures had warmed until John was once again sweating. His mouth was beyond dry and he was having trouble coming up with any spit at all. The canteen was mostly buried under rocks, with only a couple of inches showing and a little bit of the strap. It was several feet almost directly behind him and it was awkward trying to reach for it. He had to twist

to one side and it pulled unmercifully on his trapped leg. He stretched out his hand as far as he could, only to discover his reach was a few inches too short.

After several minutes of extending his body, trying to inch his hand forward until it would touch the strap, he finally gave up and fell limp into the dirt, the side of his face pressed against the ground. His brief fling with hope was quickly drying up. He laughed, a dry and pitiful laugh, certain that some powerful entity was purposefully toying with him by putting water just out of reach. After all, what were the odds?

He lifted his head and glanced around for sticks that might be within his reach, but no trees were close and therefore, no sticks. He could sit and throw rocks at it to vent his frustration. Chuckling, he thought about how absurd that thought was, not to mention a total waste of energy. Maybe he was already starting to lose it. Lifting his arm, he glanced at his watch. Still several hours until he'd be missed and he tried not think about how that translated into rescue time. Not good for him.

Remembering his gun, he grabbed it out of his holster and twisted back around, pausing when the sudden movement spiked the pain in his leg and grayed his vision for a few moments. When his head cleared some, he reached out with the gun, holding it as far out as he dared without losing his hold on the weapon. He jabbed at the strap, still falling a couple of inches short of his target. He tried until he pulled a muscle cramp in his neck and shoulder, at which point he involuntarily dropped the gun and pulled back, moaning as he massaged against the fiery pain. Turning to his back, he lay there panting and tired and feverish, willing his team to know that something was wrong and come after him.

oOo

Elizabeth looked up at the tech that stepped into her office. "Dr. Weir, we have Teyla on the radio from the mainland. We're transferring it over to you now."

Elizabeth nodded, looking at her watch. She had been expecting John and Teyla to arrive any minute and it worried her that Teyla was still on the mainland.

"_Elizabeth, it is Teyla. Can you hear me all right?"_

"Yes, I can hear you fine. I was expecting you back about now. What's going on?"

"_I think there is something wrong. John was to have picked me up some time ago, but he is not here and we cannot reach him by radio. I am getting worried."_

Elizabeth sighed, feeling her stomach drop. She stood and walked out of her office to peer out the windows of Atlantis, confirming what she already knew. "John didn't tell you what direction he was going, did he?"

"_No, unfortunately he did not. Did he not inform Atlantis of his destination?"_

"No, he didn't. I think he was trying to assure his privacy, but now I'm afraid that's backfired on him. It's almost dark, so there's no use sending anyone tonight. I'll get several search parties together and have them there at first light." There was a silence during which Elizabeth thought Teyla might protest the wait.

"_We will be ready at first light."_

"He could just be having some kind of jumper trouble. Maybe he's fine." She wasn't sure if the doubt in her voice was real or imagined, but it was definitely how she felt.

"_Maybe."_

Elizabeth could tell Teyla wasn't buying it either. "I'll send Carson and a medical team, just in case."

"_I think that is wise. We will be waiting. Goodnight, Elizabeth."_

"Good night Teyla." As she clicked off the radio and prepared to assemble the search parties, she knew the night would be anything but good.

oOo

John gave up trying to push the rock off his leg and lay back, his heart racing in his chest and making him dizzy. His hands were starting to shake and he felt like his whole body was trembling, even though the night air hadn't completely chilled him yet. He was completely and utterly exhausted. He'd spent the whole day alternately trying to push or pry the rocks off his leg, somehow drag his leg out from under the rocks, or vainly trying to reach his canteen. He'd discovered his knife still in it's sheath about two hours ago and had thought for a few moments, that he would be able to reach his water. If he stretched out as far as humanly possible, which hurt his leg so badly that it made his vision darken as he almost lost consciousness, the very tip of the knife just touched the end of the strap. But it wasn't enough to actually snag the canteen and pull it closer.

He lay looking at the sky, trying to ignore the painful rumbling in his stomach or the way his dry lips were beginning to crack and bleed. His head felt like it might explode at any moment and every muscle seemed to be strained or twisted. The pain in his leg had dulled for the most part, as long as he didn't move around too much, and he didn't know whether to be thankful or worried. Teyla should have reported him missing by now, but it would have been too late to send a rescue team. They would never find him in the dark when they had no idea which way to look.

He knew he was dehydrated and getting weaker by the hour. He'd been without food or water for a day and a half now. Food wasn't that big of a problem, but he knew he wouldn't last but three, maybe four days if he was lucky, without water. They wouldn't start looking for him until morning and who knew how long it would take. He was thankful he hadn't cloaked the jumper or they'd probably never find him. As it was, they had to find the jumper, not knowing which way to look, and then find him. He was starting to realize there was a very real possibility he'd be dead by the time that happened. If he could just get his leg out from under the rocks, he could get to his water and either find his radio or crawl down the mountain to the jumper.

John focused in on one star that seemed brighter than all the others. He didn't want to die. He was ready to die if needed and he wouldn't hesitate to put his life on the line for anyone in Atlantis. But this was such a stupid way to go. He chuckled as he thought about the irony of surviving an iratus bug, battling the Wraith, almost turning into an iratus bug, and all the other near misses in the last three years, only to be killed by a stupid rock slide.

He started thinking of the things he'd miss, if there was an awareness after death in which you could miss things. He'd miss flying, of course. He'd miss movie night with the popcorn. He laughed as he thought about the way they threw as much popcorn as they ate. He'd miss that too. He'd miss the way the chair lit up as soon as he sat down and the feeling of Atlantis connecting to him. He'd miss the rush of watching the stargate chevrons light up as they dialed a new address.

His felt a sudden tightness in his chest as he thought about his team. Who would handle Rodney? None of the other team leaders had the patience to put up with his rambling and his insults and his ego. And none of them really understood how vital he was to the whole operation. Elizabeth did though. He narrowed his eyes, thinking of how abandoned she'd feel that he'd left her. They depended on one another in more ways than even they knew. They leaned on one another when things got crazy. Sometimes, when she wasn't looking, he'd let his mind wander to what might happen if she wasn't his boss. He swiped angrily at the tear than got past his defenses to slide down his cheek and mix with the dirt and blood.

Ronon. He'd miss their morning runs, even if the big guy always did beat him. His quiet, but dependable manner and the dry sense of humor John was just now really beginning to appreciate. Ronon would take care of Teyla. God, he'd miss her. The stick fights, the way she'd cock one eyebrow at him and Rodney when they were bickering, her smooth way of calming people down and bringing them to their senses in a crisis.

These people had been his friends for a long time and he just hadn't let himself admit it. They worked their way past his defenses and he had lied to himself, ignoring his growing feelings while he kept trying to reassemble the walls they had knocked down. And now he was on the brink of losing them all.

"No!" he yelled, slamming his fist into the dirt. "I'm not ready! Do you hear? I'm not ready to die yet. I have too much left to do!" He felt his voice faltering, rough and strangled with his dry throat and the emotions currently choking him. "I'm just not ready to die yet," he whispered.

oOo

Teyla watched three jumpers land from the edge of the clearing. Dawn was just breaking, the landscape beginning to emerge in the gray light of morning. She was already moving toward the ships when the first hatch began to open. Rodney, Ronon, and Carson filed out of the jumper, worried looks on their faces.

"Don't guess you heard anything from him?" asked Rodney.

Teyla shook her head sadly. "No, nothing. When he left, he flew that way," she said, pausing to point over the trees and beyond the settlement. "That is all I know of where he went. I feel we should hurry, that John needs us."

"I think we're all feeling that way," said Ronon. "So let's get in the air and start looking."

Rodney nodded. "Come with us in Jumper Three. We'll head the direction you just pointed and let the other two veer a few degrees to the left and right of that. I'll need you in the cockpit while we set up the headings and radio the other jumpers." Rodney didn't hesitate or wait for a response, but turned and hurried into the jumper. Teyla looked after him a few seconds in surprise.

"He's getting worried," said Carson in an effort to explain.

"As we all are," replied Teyla, following Rodney into the back of the jumper.

oOo

John lay on his back, watching the dark clouds roll across the sky. The wind had been picking up all morning and the temperature had begun dropping about mid-day. Sprinkles began to pelt him in the face, the cold temperature making him gasp as he opened his mouth and tried to catch as much moisture as he could. In spite of the shivers that were beginning in earnest as his clothes became increasingly wet, he was almost giddy with relief at catching some of the drops in his mouth. He licked his lips, spreading the moisture across the dry, chapped skin.

"Stop playing with me and just rain," he tried to shout, but it came out more of a rough, hoarse whisper. Almost as if answering his command, the rain began full force a few minutes later. Relief surged through him as he finally began to catch enough water to make a difference. As the rain morphed into a torrential downpour, however, rivers of muddy water began washing down the side of the hill, bringing small rocks and gravel with it. John ignored the assault from the side of the mountain as he greedily drank in the pouring rain. It was all he could do not to choke as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.

And then he stopped, realizing what a mistake he had made as he rolled to his right to vomit up all the liquid he'd just taken in. John silently cursed himself as he rode through the convulsive waves now clenching his gut and sending pain spiraling out into all parts of his abused body. How could he have been so stupid? When the heaves finally stopped, he slumped down to the ground, watching the rainwater mix with the bile-tinged water he'd just thrown up to carry it down the hill.

John lay dazed for several minutes before rolling over onto his back. The rain had slowed to a steady, but much slower rate. He felt it wash across his face and licked his lips occasionally to bring in small tastes of the water. Drifting in and out, he wasn't sure how much time passed, but he eventually realized he was shaking so violently it was pulling on his leg, sending bursts of pain rolling up his thigh. He was so cold his teeth were beginning to chatter, and still the rain fell. He found himself wishing for the sun to come back and warm him, but the thunder rolling across the low clouds between flashes of lightning told him that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. His eyes continued to search the skies, scanning for any sign of a jumper.

"Please find me," he whispered.

oOo

Elizabeth stood at the glass doors, watching the lightning streak across the darkening sky and the rain pelt the balcony outside. She could tell from the white-capped water below that the wind was blowing ferociously.

"Dr. Weir, Dr. McKay is calling for you."

Elizabeth turned to see one of the techs standing nervously behind her. She nodded and followed him back into the control room. The tech sat down at his station and flipped a switch, turning back to nod at her. Elizabeth nodded again.

"Rodney, tell me what's going on." She didn't ask if they'd found him. If they had, Rodney would have already announced it, along with his condition.

"_The storm is throwing the jumpers all over the sky and it's so dark we can't see anything anyway. We had to quit for the night. Teyla says she thinks the storm will let up by morning, so we'll head out again then." _Elizabeth could hear the disappointment in his voice as he faltered and paused. _"It's been raining most of the day, making it hard to see. I just keep thinking, he's out there in it and . . . you know Sheppard, he's probably mortally wounded and . . . we should have made him wear bright colors and take a flare gun or –"_

"Rodney, it's okay. I understand. You'll find him tomorrow and bring him home. Then you can tease him about having to rescue him from a hiking trip."

"_Oh, don't worry, he's never going to live this one down. This even tops his Kirk complex. Rescued from a simple hiking trip, yeah, this will be good."_

Elizabeth smiled at the false sense of confidence Rodney was trying so hard to radiate. She knew he was worried, hence the babbling. "You know, he might be warm and dry in the jumper and just be having mechanical difficulties." The silence that followed told her that he didn't believe that. In reality, neither did she. But it was possible and she needed him to be okay.

"_Elizabeth, if I need tales of magic and fantasy, I have a Scottish witch doctor here with me. I'd appreciate it if you resisted the urge to infiltrate his territory. We'll radio you in the morning when we get started."_

She smiled again, small but hopeful. "Good night Rodney."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**NOTE: **You guys are great. I can't keep up with the reviews. More apologies for medical mistakes that are probably abundant. This is the chapter you've been waiting for, so hang on.

Act of Desperation – Chapter 4

John looked up at the bright full moon, watching the last shadows of the clouds that raced across the sky. He estimated it to be around midnight when the rain finally stopped. But as the rain left, the wind came rushing through in earnest, blasting his soaked form with arctic air. He should have expected the possibility of drastically changing weather at the higher altitudes. He'd missed a lot of obvious things this trip, a testament to how boggled he'd let his mind get.

Shivering, John laughed, a strained hysterical laugh that scared him a little. The cold wind had succeeded in drying his clothes out some, but it had also dried out his mouth. He was thirsty again. The ground underneath him was muddy and he felt like he was lying in a puddle of ice water. The temperature wasn't subfreezing, but it was cold enough.

"John?"

John shot straight up, looking frantically around. "Teyla?" He knew it had been her voice he'd heard. He had assumed they would quit looking at dark, especially with the weather so bad, but maybe they hadn't. Squinting in the dark, he saw Teyla come over the top of the rise above him. "Teyla! I'm down here!" he called, his voice not much above a forceful whisper. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest as he saw the moon glint off her eyes.

"We are coming John." She started down the hill, John trying to hold back the tears of relief. He was going home. He could get warm and dry and have something to eat and drink.

"Teyla, I'm so glad you guys are here. I didn't think I was going to make it." He watched Teyla take a few more steps only to completely disappear.

John felt like he was having a heart attack, his chest constricting painfully as he searched for his team. "Teyla!" he screamed frantically into the wind. "No! Don't leave me! Please don't leave me!" John sat panting for several minutes before his heart and breathing began to slow and he was willing to admit to himself that Teyla had never been there. He lowered himself to the ground, staring with unfocused eyes through the rapidly accumulating moisture.

"Crap," he said softly, wiping his face. His hands felt like ice and his face was hot to the touch. Tomorrow would make three days trapped on the side of this mountain with no food and only a little rainwater. Now he was getting sick and if it didn't warm up soon, hypothermic. John had to admit to himself that he wouldn't last much longer.

oOo

Rodney clutched the jacket closer as they boarded the jumper. It was still dark and a cool wind was blowing hard, making the morning exceptionally chilly. He turned at a touch on his arm.

"We will find him, Rodney."

Rodney looked at Teyla, wishing her expression was as confident as her voice. "I hope so," he said quietly. "It's cold."

Teyla nodded. "I know. It is possible things are as Dr. Weir suggested, that John is safe in the jumper and just having mechanical problems. Or maybe he got lost and his radio doesn't work. Do you not tease him about having no sense of direction on the ground?"

Rodney's mouth turned up a little in a small smile. "Yeah, I do. Truth is, he usually knows where he's going. I just like to harass him about the few times he did get turned around. It's too much fun to pass up."

Teyla smiled at Rodney, a genuine hopeful smile. "Then perhaps this will give you something else to tease him about."

Rodney gave a nod. "Yeah, maybe. Let's go find him."

"Just what I was thinking," said Ronon, coming up behind McKay and slapping him on the shoulder as he passed by.

"Well, all right," said Rodney with more force. "We don't leave our people behind and we're not coming home without Sheppard this time! Who's driving this bucket?"

"Uh, you are," said Ronon. "But we can't leave yet. Dr. Beckett's on his way."

Rodney walked over to the open hatch and looked out. He finally spotted Carson walking across the field with some of the marines manning the other jumpers.

"Carson! Quit herding sheep and get over here. We have a colonel to find!"

oOo

The answer came to him about dawn, shivering and shaking in the cold, wet mud and feeling like he still hadn't had anything to drink in three days. Throwing most of it up might have had something to do with the last part. As he drifted in and out, he'd dreamed about some of the stories he'd been told growing up, about wild animals caught in traps chewing their leg off to get away. John had been shaken at first, unsure of why the dreams were coming to him now when he hadn't thought of the stories in years. And then he realized the relevance. He was trapped like a wild animal and if he didn't get out soon, he wasn't going to survive.

John was dehydrated, feverish, and getting weaker by the minute. He had to get help today. The only way he could be sure that would happen was to get to the jumper and he could only think of one way to free himself so that could happen. He was already so weak he wasn't sure he'd make it that far, but he had to try. The one thing he wasn't willing to do was to give up and die. If he was to die, he was going out fighting.

His determination was slightly undermined by the coughing fit that followed. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't ready yet. He'd give them a few more hours. If they weren't there by mid-morning, he would have to take action himself. It would take him at least that long to work up the nerve for what was required.

oOo

He wasn't cold anymore. He had cycled through the cold and back to being hot as his clothes dried and his fever rose. An occasional chill from the wind made him think that the air was probably still chilly, but he was kept warm by the fire burning within. His chest felt heavy and throat scratchy and he noticed it now took effort to breathe. His head hurt, but it was the sickness and not the concussion. The pain was different.

John knew his time was at an end, if he had any hope of making it back to the jumper so he could call for help. If he was honest with himself, it was probably already too late. He doubted he had the strength to make it all that way, even without doing what he had to do. He silently made preparations, fueling his resolve with his determination to live. He would not die like this. If he died trying to get back to the jumper, then so be it. But he would not lie here waiting for the end to come.

He refused to think about what would happen to him later if he was successful. If he traveled down that road, he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it. Better to trust his team to take care of him. So he methodically removed his belt and looped it around his right thigh, pulling it tight to make a tourniquet as he tried not to think about what he was about to do. He fingered the knife for several moments before cutting the fabric of his pants away from his leg, just above the knee.

He looked at his shaking hand, trying to steady it. He would need to go swiftly and firmly if he was to have any chance at being successful. Closing his eyes for a second, he mentally drilled himself on the path of the knife so that he wouldn't hesitate. He wanted to swallow, but his mouth was so dry there was no saliva. Nothing like a little dehydration and terror to give yourself a good case of cotton mouth.

Taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to cough, John snatched up the small stick he had wrapped a torn piece of his shirt around earlier and put it between his teeth. The storm runoff had deposited a cache of small sticks and other debris, allowing him to turn one into a makeshift mouthpiece to bite on. He pulled the belt tight one more time and placed the knife against his thigh, just above his kneecap. He took a quick, deep breath and held it as he pushed the knife into the flesh and watched the blood begin to sluggishly flow around the wound. New beads of sweat popped out on his brow as he pressed his teeth into the stick, groaning against the sharp, hot pain as he cut.

"John, stop!"

John hesitated, his fevered and pain riddled mind unsure if he had actually heard anything or not.

"John, please . . . put the knife down now. We are here."

John had stopped and instinctively pulled his hand up at the sound of the voice. The bloody knife was shaking in his hand and his vision was swimming as he dumbly watched the blood slowly soak into the surrounding pant leg. When he was finally able to pull his eyes away from his leg and look up, Teyla stood on top of the ridge, right where he'd seen her earlier. His mouth opened and the stick fell out and onto his lap.

"You aren't real," he croaked.

Teyla took a step forward, moving slowly as if she was approaching a frightened animal. "I assure you, I am real. We have come for you, John, come to take you home. Please, put the knife down."

John stared at her, afraid if the blinked or looked away, she would disappear. When she had closed the distance between them to a few yards, Rodney topped the ridge.

"Are you talking to someone? Did you find him? You could at least . . . " Rodney froze open mouthed, gaping at the scene before him. It was several moments before understanding flooded his face. "Oh god," he whispered, a cold shudder moving through him. He tapped his radio and spoke quietly into it. "Carson, we found him and you'd better get up here now." Swallowing rapidly, he fought the rising nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

John continued to watch Teyla until she kneeled in front of him, reaching out slowly to lightly touch his arm. "See, I am real. You don't have to do that. We are here."

John's eyes filled with tears as he dropped the knife and looked down at his increasingly bloody leg. He began shaking all over when he realized what he'd almost done. Emotions rushed through him like a tidal wave, fear, relief, guilt, hope. The next thing he knew his vision was fading and he was so weak he couldn't even sit up. He was aware of Teyla sitting behind him, holding him and stroking his arm as she talked softly. He could hear his team talking and Carson's brogue, but he couldn't seem to respond. Drifting in and out, he was aware of touches and voices and several moments of intense pain. When the pressure on his leg was finally released, the sudden surge of agony made him scream and then the darkness slammed down hard and fast.

oOo

Rodney concentrated on getting the jumper in the air, trying desperately to ignore the sounds of Carson working on John behind him. He could hear the doctor giving instructions to Teyla, who was helping him. He swallowed, wishing he could get the acrid taste of vomit out of his mouth. He'd finally lost his last meal when the rocks had come off of Sheppard and he'd seen the shattered leg beneath. That combined with the man trying to cut his own leg off had been more than Rodney could handle.

"Atlantis, this is Jumper Three and we are in the air. Our ETA is twenty-five to thirty minutes. Carson wants a gurney in the jumper bay when we land and a surgical team standing by."

Elizabeth's voice was a little shaky as she replied. _"Understood Rodney. We'll be ready. How's John?"_

Rodney took a deep breath and tried to rid his mind of the image of John holding the bloody knife over his leg. "Carson says he's hanging on. We'll see you in a few. Jumper Three out."

"Rodney, if you can hurry, it would be a good idea," said Carson.

"There is no power booster on this thing. I'm going as fast as I can," Rodney snapped. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Sorry . . . I'll go as fast as I can."

"I know you will," came the gentle reply.

oOo

Rodney stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, resuming the pacing he'd given up almost an hour ago. He walked to one end of the waiting area, passing Ronon as the Satedan headed in the opposite direction. Elizabeth and Teyla sat side by side, watching the two men as they roamed the room, using their motion as a distraction from their morbid thoughts. After a while, Ronon finally stopped and leaned against the wall, while Rodney resumed sitting in the chair beside Teyla.

"I knew a man who cut his arm off," said Ronon, startling the others waiting in the room.

Rodney scrunched his face in disgust. "And we want to know this _why_?"

Ronon shrugged his shoulders. "Thought it was relevant. His arm was trapped in some rubble after an explosion and the rest of his unit was killed. He cut part of his arm off and made it back alive. If he hadn't, he'd be dead."

"Yes, yes, we all get the connection. I just don't want to think about it. It's too . . . gruesome." Rodney shivered involuntarily, trying to shove the image of Sheppard and the bloody knife out of his mind for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

Elizabeth frowned and looked over at Rodney and then slowly at each team member. "We're going to have to think about it. Even though John didn't actually have to finish, he's going to have to come to terms with making the decision and starting. I'm thinking that will take a lot of work and understanding to get over. Do you realize if you'd been a few minutes later . . . " Now it was Elizabeth who shuddered. "Well, you have to know that he'll realize what would have happened too."

They all turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and rose to meet Carson. The doctor gave a short nod to them before pulling a chair around to face the rest. "Let's sit for a minute." Obviously exhausted, Carson plopped down in the chair and waited until the rest of them were settled.

"Colonel Sheppard is in recovery and then we'll be moving him to the critical care area for close monitoring. His lower right leg was broken in several places, but with the aid of a rod and several screws, I think we've finally put him back together again. He may need another surgery down the road, but I'd like him to be stronger before we do that." Carson took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "You have to understand that this was a very serious injury and it's been made worse by the delay in getting treatment. He'll require quite a bit of physical therapy if he's to stand a chance of regaining full mobility and strength in that leg."

"If?" asked Rodney, his eyes getting wide.

Carson nodded grimly. "If it was anyone else, I'd say it wouldn't happen, but I know how tenacious the colonel can be. He won't take impossible for an answer."

"What about where he . . . cut his leg?" asked Elizabeth tentatively.

"Fortunately, he didn't get very far. There is some muscle damage, but I think it will heal. Once again, he'll need some PT, but since he'll already be doing that for the breaks, it won't be any problem. He was very lucky. He didn't get deep enough to get to the artery and somehow all those rocks didn't inhibit blood flow to his lower leg too much. He came very close to losing his leg, even without his attempt at amputation."

Rodney cringed at the reference. "Do we know how long he was trapped?"

Carson shook his head. "We won't know that until he wakes up. It was several days from the shape he was in. He's dehydrated and suffering from exposure, covered with cuts and bruises. It looks like he suffered a concussion as well. He was slightly hypothermic when we found him and he's fighting an infection right now. He's running a fever and very congested, which made the surgery just that much riskier."

"What's the bottom line?" asked Ronon. The rest of them exchanged looks at Ronon's use of the phrase, wondering if he'd picked it up from one of them or if they had a similar saying on his world.

Carson smiled at Ronon's need to get to the heart of the matter. "I expect the colonel will recover, but I expect it to be a long and painful one. He'll be frustrated and impatient before it's over, but we can all work together to help him with that. He was trapped for days alone with no food and no water and was desperate enough to try to cut off his own leg. At some point, he'll need to talk to someone and we should be here for him when he needs us." Beckett chuckled. "I expect Kate will make an attempt at getting him to open up, but I'm betting it'll be one or more of you he ends up confessing to. Just be ready for him when the time comes and don't push."

Rodney frowned. "So, I'm a little confused. Are you the physician or the psychologist?"

Carson gave a small smile. "I'm a doctor and a friend who's seen the colonel at his worst, injured and traumatized by the likes of Kolya and the Wraith and other nasties we've run into. When he's hurting, it's his team he trusts and it's his team he confides in when he finally does open up."

Teyla smiled and hugged her arms around herself. "And we will be here for him this time as well, as he has always been there for us."

"He stood up for me . . . came after me. We'll be there for him," said Ronon, crossing his arms, his expression determined.

Carson smiled and nodded. "I know you will, lad. I know you will."

oOo

John floated for a while in a haze of dreams and voices and pain. Brief awareness came and went, never lasting long enough for complete comprehension. He was so cold, but then he was hot. Flashes of more intense pain accompanied the sensation of movement. The voices sometimes seemed familiar, but never clear or coherent. He struggled against things on his face and touches that hurt him.

He saw himself back on the mainland, knife in hand, stick clenched in his jaws. He saw himself force the sharp blade deep into the flesh of his leg and he screamed with the pain of his actions as his vision began to gray out.

John rose up sharply, sucking in a gasp of air. He was trembling and sweaty and terrified and he couldn't remember why. The image of him cutting his leg popped into his head and he forced himself up to his elbows so he could look down at the appendage, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Colonel, it's okay. You're back on Atlantis now." Carson was there so fast that John knew he had to have been near by. The doctor pushed gently on John's shoulders. "You need to lie back for me."

"My leg . . . did I . . . is my leg there?" John was terrified to know the answer, but at the same time, he had to have it.

"No, lad, you didn't. Your leg was badly broken, but we've set the bones and you're mending now. Your leg is still very much there, colonel."

John continued to push up against the hands. "I need to see." He couldn't rest until he'd seen for himself that he hadn't finished what he'd started. His energy was waning and he was becoming aware of the monitors and tubes attached to him.

As a nurse arrived on the side opposite the doctor, Carson nodded. The two medical personnel helped John sit up just a little more until he could see the giant mound created by his heavily bandaged leg. Relief swept over him, making him light headed as he was eased back down to the mattress.

"There colonel, like I told you, your leg is right there, still attached and not going any where."

John sucked in a breath, his chest feeling heavy and thick. "Sorry . . . had to see."

Carson smiled as he adjusted the nasal cannula back to the proper position. "It's all right. I probably would have done the same thing. I just sent your team to get something to eat and get out from underfoot for a moment. They'll be a wee bit upset with me for the timing." The nurse reappeared with a small cup and proceeded to give John a couple of ice chips.

John closed his eyes and moaned slightly at the sensation of the cool liquid slowly quenching the fire in his throat. "Good," he muttered softly. He drifted a few seconds, briefly aware of Carson checking his vital signs.

"Colonel?"

John opened his eyes once again, finding Carson looking down at him seriously. "How long have I been here?"

"We found you four days ago. You've been in and out, mostly out, since then. We surgically repaired your leg and I've been pumping fluids into you. You've been fighting quite an infection. Well, actually, you still are. You're still congested and running a fever, but it's not as bad as it was."

John glanced back down to his leg. "So, how bad is it?"

Carson sighed, glancing back toward the injured limb before returning his gaze to the colonel. "Both the tibia and fibula were broken in several places and there were three breaks in your ankle and foot. I've put in a rod along with several screws to hold everything together. I'm afraid it will be several weeks of rest followed by a lot of intensive physical therapy before you can even think of getting back on your feet."

"But I will get back to normal, right?" John felt his stomach tighten as he waited nervously for the doctor's answer.

Carson hesitated, making John's heart seem to jump to his throat. "There are no guarantees, colonel. I believe with hard work and patience, that you will be returned to active duty, but I cannot say for sure."

John nodded, determination in his eyes and his voice. If he could cut his leg off to save his life, then he could bear down and work hard enough to get back on active duty. He would make sure that he did. "That's okay, doc. As long as you tell me there's at least an outside chance, that's good enough for me."

Carson grinned broadly. "Colonel, I honestly doubt that I would ever tell you there wasn't a chance. I learned long ago how much you like to beat the odds."

TBC

_See, that wasn't so bad._


	5. Chapter 5

Act of Desperation – Chapter 5

John opened his eyes to find it was dark, so dark he couldn't see where he was for a few moments. At some point, he realized he was staring at the ceiling of the infirmary. Lifting his head a little, he looked around the dim surroundings, but couldn't see anyone else. Letting his head fall back to the pillow, he became acutely aware of the silence. There was no sound of movement, no nurses, no other patients. As he was thinking about how weird it seemed, pain pulsed through his leg, making him grit his teeth. By the time it quit, he was sweating and shaking and wishing Carson would show up with his next round of pain medicine. Lifting himself up to his elbows, he glanced around the still empty room.

"Carson?"

There was still no movement and no sound, making John more worried and nervous by the minute. His arms were beginning to tremble from holding up his weight, but he glanced down at his leg before allowing himself to lie back. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut, taking his breath away. Just below the knee of his right leg, the sheet suddenly went flat to the bed. He fell back against the pillows, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt hot tears stream down his face.

"No, no, no, no," he ground out between his clenched jaws. Suddenly the world was spinning and he felt like he was falling.

"John, wake up! John, you are having a nightmare and you must wake up!"

John opened his eyes abruptly to see Teyla standing over him, shaking him by the shoulder, while Rodney stood on the other side of the bed looking worried. He was breathing so hard and so fast that he still felt dizzy and he couldn't seem to squelch the panic raging within him. He sat straight up, almost banging his head against Teyla's before she had time to dart back out of the way. Frantically he began clawing at the blanket covering his body.

"My leg . . . it was gone."

Teyla grabbed his hands and tried to hold them still, but he struggled against her, his fear rising as he wondered if she didn't want him to see. "Let go of me!" The next thing he knew, Rodney had disappeared to be replaced by Ronon and he was effectively pinned to the bed.

"Be still, Sheppard," said Ronon firmly. John still felt as though his heart might explode, but he ceased his struggles, knowing he was too weak to make any progress against the big man.

"What's going on here?" demanded Carson, storming toward the group from his office. "Ronon, why do you have my patient pinned to his bed like this was some kind of wrestling match?"

Teyla turned to the doctor. "John woke from a nightmare and was extremely agitated. We feared he might hurt himself."

Carson nodded and his expression relaxed as he reached John and looked down at him. "Colonel, you're seriously injured and a bit woozy from the medication. If Ronon lets go, will you lay still? We just don't want you to harm yourself."

John frowned, trying desperately to bring his breathing back under control. "Need . . . to see . . . leg."

Carson nodded in understanding. "All right, but you let us help and follow my instructions."

John swallowed and nodded, the image of the flattened sheet suddenly popping into his head. Ronon let go slowly. Upon seeing that Sheppard wasn't going to fight, he backed up away from the bed, allowing Rodney to step back up.

"Geez, Sheppard, are you _trying_ to give us all a coronary?"

"Rodney," said Carson, his tone one of warning. "He's disoriented from the fever and the medication. It's expected and I'll not have you berating him for it."

Rodney just sighed and shook his head as if talking to a child. "This is what I do, Carson. You, of all people, should know that by now. If I was nice to him, he might get worried."

John snorted and looked up at Carson. "He's right, you know."

Carson gave a begrudging nod. "All right, then, you're both daft. Rodney, make yourself useful and help me sit the colonel up a bit." Carson raised the head of the bed slightly and then he and Rodney put one hand behind Sheppard's back and one on his shoulder. "Let us do the work, colonel." They lifted Sheppard to a sitting position and then Carson pulled the covers back so the colonel could see the heavy bandaging on his leg. "Satisfied?"

John nodded, breathing out deeply and his features relaxing. Carson returned the covers and then put his hand back up to his patient's shoulder, lowering him back against the bed. He fussed with the covers a few seconds and checked the lines going in and out of Sheppard before smiling down at the man.

"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "I thought . . . I had a dream and . . . it was gone. It seemed so real."

Carson just patted John's arm and nodded, but the rest of his team looked uncomfortable with the revelation, thinking of how close their friend had come. "It's all right, colonel. I'm not surprised. I think this is quite the normal reaction considering what happened. Not to worry about that, though. I admit I was concerned the first day or two, but I believe we're past the point where we have to worry about you losing your leg. Just concentrate on healing and getting stronger."

John took a casual swipe at his face, trying to hide the fact that he was wiping away the tears from his dream. Everyone pretended to be oblivious. "Thanks, doc."

"How's the pain?"

"I'm good for now."

Carson smiled and nodded once. "All right. I'm going back to my office, so one of you let me know if the colonel needs anything. And don't tire him out."

They all nodded and murmured they would take care of their teammate as Carson turned and left. Ronon and Rodney sat back down, carefully avoiding eye contact with John for several minutes.

John grimaced as he shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable. He hated the stiff muscles that accompanied an extended infirmary stay and it looked like he was in for a long one this time. Looking at his friends, he smiled at their loyalty. They had searched until they found him and they surrounded him now, waiting on him to wake up. He had been so terrified to let them in and they had snuck in anyway. Without realizing it was happening, he had come to depend on them, just as he imagined they had come to depend on him. His conversation with Teyla aboard the Daedalus, as awkward as it had been, had opened his eyes to how much like a family they had become. A family of misfits and anomalies to be sure, but a family none the less. He was starting to realize that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Must be the drugs."

John blinked and tried to pry the fog from his mind as he looked up at Rodney. "What?"

Rodney just nodded at him. "Yeah, told you, the drugs. Why else would anyone in the shape he's in have that goofy grin on his face?"

John snorted. "Just thinking about something." He looked from Rodney's smirk to Teyla's worried face and then Ronon's bemused one. "Thanks guys . . . for coming after me and keeping me . . . well, for saving my butt." He had to swallow hard as the memory of pressing the knife into his leg came to view, making him rub his eyes for a few moments.

"Well, it's what we do," said Rodney. "Saving the day, just in the nick of time." As he finished, he winced at the wording.

"Nice word choice, McKay," rumbled Ronon from beside him, his expression grim.

Teyla smiled and moved over to John, her voice smooth and even. "The important thing is that we have John back and he is going to be okay. That is what we should concentrate on." She leaned forward and down to touch John's forehead, paused a second, and then stood back up. She smiled when she looked down to see his eyes closed.

"We should be quiet," she whispered. "He is asleep."

They sat watching him sleep for a while, each flashing back to when they had found him and suffered through a brief moment of not knowing how far he had cut or if his leg could be saved. They could hear his agonizing scream when they had released his leg from the rocks pinning it to the ground. They were tired from the days of waiting, but they decided maybe they would stay with him just a little longer.

oOo

John lay watching Rodney stare at his computer screen. He'd been back in Atlantis over a week now and was finally able to stay awake for more than just a few minutes. He'd had a second surgery just a few days ago, when Carson thought he was finally strong enough. The good news was that Carson had improved his prognosis for John's recovery. The bad news was that the doctor had started cutting back the pain medication and the pilot's waking hours tended to be cranky, pained ones.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at that thing? If you're going to babysit me, at least you could make an attempt at being entertaining."

Rodney shifted his eyes up to look at John over the top of the screen. "I'm thinking. I know that's a foreign concept to you, but some of us are actually quite good at it."

John leaned forward and rubbed the top of his thigh. That was about the only place on his leg that didn't hurt, but he couldn't very well manhandle his injuries, so he settled on rubbing the closest thing to them. A small, but sudden flash of pain shooting through his calf caught him off guard and he let a small moan escape.

"Colonel?"

John looked over to find Rodney sitting ramrod straight in the chair, his hands poised on top of his laptop as if he was about to slam it shut. His forehead creased with a worried frown, he was staring at John expectantly.

"It's okay," said John, leaning back against the pillow as the sharpness of the pain eased a little. "It does that sometimes. Just caught me off guard that time." He drummed his fingers nervously on the bed with one hand while the other gripped the sheet in a tight fist. "How about that entertainment . . . or something distracting," said John, his voice tight and strained.

Rodney nodded and closed the laptop, setting it on the bed behind him. "What do you want to do?"

John chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "I don't care, McKay . . . just . . . something. Talk to me. What have you and Radek been up to lately?"

Rodney nodded nervously. "Yeah, uh, me and Radek, well, we've been . . . " Rodney stopped, mesmerized by John's battle with the building pain. "Look, why don't I go get Carson?"

"No!" John panted for a few seconds and then swallowed. "No, it's okay. I've got to cut back . . . get off the pain meds eventually. I might as well start now."

Rodney stood silently, his mouth slightly open as he watched a single bead of sweat trickle down the side of John's face. Shaking his head, he looked at John, who was watching him quizzically. "I'm sorry."

John's eyebrows raised and he lifted his head a few inches. "Sorry? About what?"

Rodney licked his lips and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner, before you . . . lost hope and . . . you know."

John just stared silently at Rodney for several seconds, trying to process what was going on. "Rodney . . . you know this was not your fault, right? If anyone is to blame here, it's me."

Rodney's eyes widened, followed by a scowl. "Why do you always blame yourself for everything? How is a rock slide your fault?"

John gave a short laugh. "Not the rock slide, but you not being able to find me. I broke protocol. I didn't radio my position and I didn't maintain radio contact. If I had, you would have known there was a problem earlier and you would have found me sooner. I have no one to blame for the wait but myself. I have learned my lesson well, though, I can assure you of that."

Rodney frowned for a few minutes, finally bringing his gaze from the floor back up to John. "If you don't mind my asking, and even if you do, what was that all about? Why the lone trek across the landscape?"

John rubbed the side of his face. He'd known the question would surface eventually and he still didn't know how to respond. "I just had some things to work out."

"Like what?"

Rodney was nothing if not persistent. "Just some stuff, McKay." He didn't feel ready for this yet. He wasn't sure he'd gotten the whole thing straight in his own mind.

"I want to know. Is it about us, the team? You aren't thinking about going back to Earth are you?"

"God, no, whatever gave you that idea? This is home to me now. Closest thing to a real home I've had in a long time. I just . . . had some personal issues to think about."

Rodney looked slightly relieved, but still somewhat troubled. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

John hesitated. "I'm not ready yet. Just . . . give me some time, okay?"

Rodney looked disappointed, but nodded. "Okay, I can do that."

John gave a small smile and a nod to his friend. "Thanks." He grit his teeth as another wave of pain rolled down his leg, clutching the blanket into a wad in his fist.

Rodney watched only a few seconds before taking his cue. "Anyway, I was going to tell you what Radek wanted me to do in the lab the other day while you were out being nature boy." He launched into a long story, exaggerating every mistake made in the lab as he called the other scientists the most scathing names he could think of. It wasn't long before John was begging him to stop making him laugh so hard.

oOo

Rodney strode quickly into the infirmary, obviously a man on a mission. John watched curiously as he walked up to stand beside his bed.

"So, how goes it, colonel?"

John signed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, the good news is that I feel better, but the bad news is that I'm still immobile and dying of boredom. Think you could snag my laptop or something before I start seeing how far I can spit?"

Rodney winced and groaned. "That is disgusting and not very smart. Somehow being immobile in Carson's care and spitting across his infirmary sounds like an invitation for torture to me. I have a better a idea. Why don't you snag your own computer while we take you on a field trip?"

John's eyes went so wide that Rodney laughed. "Field trip? As in out of here? Really? You wouldn't kid me, would you, because that would just be wrong."

"Nope, and we even have permission." As he spoke, Teyla and Ronon pushed a wheelchair up to the bed. "I think you're getting on Carson's nerves."

John didn't care if it meant he got to see something besides infirmary walls. He'd been looking at them for over two weeks now. He watched as Teyla pulled the covers back and then Ronon and Rodney helped him out of the bed and into the wheelchair. His lower leg was in a brace to give it support and Teyla set the right leg support so that it was elevated slightly. He had revolted against staying any longer in a gown, so Carson had cut the leg out of a pair of scrubs for him and now he was extremely glad. Teyla threw a light blanket over his lap, making him feel mothered. It wasn't an altogether bad feeling.

"This is great, guys. How long do we get to stay? Where are we going?"

"I see you have the lad settled," said Carson as he came out of his office and walked their way. "Colonel, are you feeling all right?"

"Great!" said John enthusiastically.

Carson smiled and seemed relieved. John wasn't sure it was because he was happy or because Carson was getting rid of him for a while, but he didn't care. "How long can I stay out?"

Carson thought a few seconds before answering. "Two hours and then have him back."

"Two hours?" complained Rodney and John simultaneously.

"Three," said Rodney.

"This is not a bloody auction," said Carson. He looked down at John's pleading face and sighed. "Two and a half and a not a minute more. And if he looks like he's tiring, bring him back before that. I'm depending on you to keep him from overdoing it."

"Thanks Carson," said John brightly.

"All right, have a nice outing, colonel and we'll see you in exactly two and a half hours."

Ronon wheeled the chair around and pushed it out of the infirmary. "Where to?"

John looked around at him, uncertainty in his face. "I have no idea . . . anywhere I guess."

"Have you eaten yet?" asked Teyla.

"No, not yet."

Teyla smiled. "Neither have we. Perhaps you would like to eat somewhere besides the infirmary, where you can see people and have a chance to visit."

"Good idea, Teyla. To the mess hall, James," said John as he pointed forward.

Ronon looked over at Teyla. "Who's James?"

Teyla shrugged her shoulders as Rodney and John laughed.

Lunch turned out to be a social event. While Ronon parked John at a table, Rodney got him a tray of food. Several minutes later, the whole team was armed with food and sitting around the table. As they talked and ate, a constant flow of people came over to greet the colonel and say how glad they were to see him out and about.

John wasn't surprised by the soldiers stopping to talk to him. He figured they were just scoring a few points in case they needed them later down the line. But many scientists and technical staff also took time to say hello, and that confused him. He wasn't sure why they would care.

After the meal, John wanted to visit the gateroom, just to remind himself what it looked like. Then they went to the jumper bay, where he insisted on being taken to Jumper One. He patted her side lovingly and told her he'd be flying her soon and to take care. Rodney rolled his eyes and reminded him he couldn't bed a ship, while Ronon and Teyla grinned and snickered.

"I do not understand why you are talking to an object," said Teyla, confusion filling her face. "It cannot hear you or respond."

"I know, but she's my ship," explained John, as if his actions were the most logical thing in the world.

Teyla looked at Rodney for more information. "Hey, don't look at me. I think it's a flyboy thing."

John snorted. "Like you don't talk to your computer."

Rodney frowned and crossed his arms. "That's entirely different. Let's go."

From the jumper bay, they stopped by John's quarters to pick up his laptop and headphones. "Do we have time to stop by the balcony?" John knew they were close to being out of time, but he really wanted to go outside for a few moments.

Rodney looked at his watch. "For a few minutes. We can hit the one down the hall."

John nodded gratefully, having missed his little outside excursions. His leg was throbbing again and he was so tired he could barely sit up, but he really wanted to feel the crisp, ocean air on his face. He needed to feel the sunlight warming his skin. He felt an almost immediate release of tension when the wheelchair rolled outside onto the balcony he often visited late at night. Ronon parked him close to the railing and he found himself wishing he could stand.

"How's that?" asked Rodney.

"This is great . . . thanks." He closed his eyes and breathed in the unique scent, smiling at the slight breeze ruffling his hair. It smelled like home. And the people around him made it feel like home. He thought again about how close he had let these people get and realized he wouldn't take it back if he could. One day he might have to deal with their loss, but today he would cherish their friendship.

"You know, I'm not sure I've properly thanked you guys for getting there when you did. I keep thinking if you had gotten there a little later . . . " John shuddered visibly, shifting his gaze to the ground.

"But we didn't," said Teyla firmly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

John nodded. "I know. I just don't want you guys to think . . . I just did what . . . " John swallowed and took a deep breath, his words catching in his throat.

"You did what you had to do to survive," said Ronon. "We understand."

John frowned, fiddling absently with the hem of the blanket. "I just . . . didn't want to die there. Alone . . . and for no reason." He ran his hand through his hair and scrubbed the top of his head for a second. "I was stupid out there and almost got myself killed."

"Just don't do it again," said Rodney lightly.

John gave a small smile, relaxing a bit. "No chance of that," he said sheepishly. "Don't worry, I'll be following protocol from now on."

"The guy in charge should probably follow his own rules," commented Ronon with a smile.

John smiled back at him. "Yeah, big guy, you're right on that one."

"How have you been sleeping?" asked Teyla, changing the subject abruptly.

John considered the question for a few moments. "Better than I was."

Rodney narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. "Better as in the nightmares are gone or better as in you only have them six days a week instead of seven?"

John chuckled. "Somewhere in between. At least now when I wake up, I realize it was a dream almost immediately. I'm getting there."

"We had better get John back to the infirmary before we are late," said Teyla, moving toward the door of the balcony.

Rodney looked down at John as Ronon moved in behind the wheelchair. "So, are you really okay?"

John shifted his eyes up toward Rodney, who was looking concerned and frowning slightly. He smiled and gave a nod. "I will be."

oOo

Carson was waiting for them when they returned John to the infirmary, just two minutes before the deadline. The first thing the doctor noticed was the light in John's eyes and the smile on his face. The second thing he noticed was how tired the man was and the fine lines of strain around his eyes, indicating his leg was hurting. Ronon parked the chair beside the bed and shocked both John and Carson when he leaned down and picked the pilot up, carefully depositing him in the freshly made and turned down bed.

"Ronon, that wasn't necessary," complained John, embarrassment flushing his face. His voice was stern, but not angry.

Ronon shrugged his shoulders as he stepped back. "You're tired. That was easier."

John rolled his upper lip down as if biting it for a second before relaxing back to normal. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"How was your trip, colonel?" asked Carson, already knowing the answer.

John smiled again, the discomfort of a moment earlier forgotten. "Great! I needed the break and I'm guessing you did too. Thanks, Carson."

Carson smiled and nodded. "You're welcome. It won't be long until you can return to your quarters. We just need to get you where you can get up and down by yourself, but I'm afraid that will be a few more days. Now, all of you need to go and let the colonel get some rest." He didn't add that it was time for the colonel's pain medication and he could tell the man was needing it.

"Yes, yes, we're leaving," said Rodney, setting John's laptop down on the table next to the bed. "I'll come back and annoy you after your nap, colonel."

John yawned and nodded. "Thanks guys. That was great. You guys are the best."

"Well, of course we are," said Rodney smugly.

Teyla leaned over and briefly touched foreheads with John. "I am glad you enjoyed your outing, John. I hope you rest well."

Ronon nodded once to the pilot and John nodded back. Sometimes he liked the way no words were necessary between him and the Satedan.

Beckett watched the three leave, each turning to take one more look over their shoulder as they exited the infirmary. "That's quite a team you have their, colonel."

"The best," said John, smiling at the retreating backs of his friends, his family.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Act of Desperation – Chapter 6

Rodney came around the corner and stopped after a few steps, watching John as he limped toward him, one hand periodically going out to the wall to steady himself. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, a padded brace still supporting his lower right leg. Sweat stains mottled his tattered gray shirt, making it stick to his torso.

"All dressed up with no place to go?" teased Rodney.

John looked up from the floor and stopped in front of the scientist. "Oh, hey, Rodney. What are you up to?"

"Just came to see if you wanted to go to lunch. Physical therapy go late?"

John nodded tiredly. "Yeah, a little."

"I hear that new physical therapist is a slave driver," commented Rodney, noting how genuinely worn Sheppard looked.

"She is, but I wouldn't have it any other way. The harder she works me, the faster I'll get back on duty."

Rodney chuckled. "Yeah, if you don't drop from exhaustion first."

"Well, I only ran late today because I got a cramp in my calf muscle toward the end. She wouldn't let me leave until she was sure we had worked it out and then she made me drink some kind of electrolyte replacement drink." John made a face and a gagging noise. "Tasted like a flat, salty orange soda."

"Yuck. I'm guessing you don't want to walk all the way to the mess hall then. You look like you just ran a marathon."

John shook his head. "If I can just make it to my quarters, I'm getting a hot shower and lying down for a while. I can't believe how quickly I get tired." He leaned a little more heavily against the wall, annoyance crossing his face.

Rodney shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to make his friend feel better. "Uh, I could get us lunch and bring it to your quarters. You really should eat."

John seemed to think about it for a few seconds. "Okay, that would be good. I am kind of hungry, just too tired to walk that far."

Rodney smiled and nodded. "Okay, I should be back with food by the time you're out of the shower. Just don't leave the bathroom until you've got clothes on. I don't want any coronary-inducing surprises."

"Ha, ha," said John sarcastically. "Just bring the food, McKay."

Rodney waved his hand dismissively as John started back down the hall. He stood for a few minutes, just watching the pilot slowly but steadily make his way down the corridor and around the corner. The limp was much less pronounced that it had been and Rodney knew he was only moving that slowly because he was tired and hurting from the PT. John had definitely made a lot of progress, but he knew the pilot was getting frustrated with the slow pace of his recovery. And there was still the lingering question of why the colonel had gone on his disastrous little adventure in the first place. Sometimes Rodney wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

oOo

John emerged from the bathroom to find Rodney already sitting down, with two trays of food on the table before him. Dressed in some light running pants and clean t-shirt, John hobbled over to the chair using his crutches.

"Where's that brace thing you've been wearing?"

John nodded toward the corner. "Over there. I don't wear it all the time, just when I'm on my feet a lot and putting weight on it. Right now I need a break." He popped the top on one of the prescription bottles on the table and took a pill with some water.

Rodney winced in sympathy. "Does it still hurt a lot?"

John shook his head. "Not much, mostly during and after therapy. Sometimes at night if I'm up and down on it too much during the day. I've been doing a few extra repetitions of the PT exercises in the afternoon and Amanda says it's beginning to pay off."

Rodney frowned as he scooped up a bite of potatoes. "Does Carson know you're doing extra exercises?"

"Yeah, it's okay as long as I just do a few and don't work my leg too hard. Believe me, I'm careful. I'm not taking any chances on setting myself back. I cleared it before I started."

"You are getting around better lately."

John smiled. "Yeah, I think so too. Carson said he'll let me go on half day light duty next week."

Rodney choked and coughed, followed by gulping down most of his water. "Does he know you are for all practical purposes already doing that?"

John bobbed his head quickly to the right. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What kind of meat is this?" He made a show of prodding the meat on his tray with his fork, as if trying to identify it.

"I'm talking about going to your office nearly every day and dropping by the firing range and the gym, checking on your men. Then there's the clandestine meetings with Lorne for military updates. Oh," Rodney said, pointing at the meat on John's tray with his fork, "and I think it's a cheap cut of beef."

"Beckett never said I had to stay in my quarters. I have to wander around to avoid being bored to death. It's not like I have anything else to do after PT is over." John picked up the knife and cut into the chunk of meat on his plate, splaying it open to reveal the red interior. Blood ran freely across his tray, pooling beside the potato casserole that had spilled over the side of its compartment. John froze.

He was back on the mainland, his knife in his hand as he pushed it into the flesh of his leg and watched the blood spill out around the wound, soaking into his pants and running down the side of his leg. The red was so bright, standing out against the dull colors around it. The pain was fresh and sharp in his leg and he felt his stomach churn in revulsion.

"Colonel!"

John dropped the silverware in his plate as he clamped one hand down on his mouth, fighting the contractions threatening to propel his breakfast forward. He tried to get up, but his leg wouldn't cooperate and he ended up falling, chair and all, sideways onto the floor. As soon as his body slammed into the hard surface, jarring his already throbbing leg, he lost the battle to keep his latest meal down. He leaned against his right elbow, left arm holding his heaving stomach until the retching stopped. It was all he could do not to just lay in the mess and pass out.

John jumped slightly at the cool touch of a damp cloth to his face. Taking the rag, he gave a slight nod to Rodney, all he could do for the moment. After he wiped his face, Rodney helped him up and handed him his crutches so he could make it over to the bed. Sitting down as gently as he could, he was barely aware as Rodney took the crutches out of his hands and kneeled in front of him.

"Sheppard, why don't you lie back and I'll call Carson."

"No. I'm okay now. It just . . . " John swallowed hard, the image of his damaged leg assaulting him again. He fisted his hand and hit the bed in frustration and embarrassment. How could he still be reacting to things like this? It had been weeks. He should be over it by now. _Suck it up, Sheppard._

"I still say we should call Carson to look at your leg." Rodney wrinkled his nose. "Better yet, let's go to him and I'll call someone to clean this up. Whatever we do, we don't need to stay here."

By this time, the smell had made its way over to John and he could feel his stomach getting ready for second performance. "Okay, I don't care anymore, let's just get out of here. Can you hand me my brace?"

Rodney quickly grabbed the brace and helped John fasten it in place. "Do you need the crutches?"

"No, this is good. I think I'm too wobbly to use them." John limped heavily toward the door and Rodney looked at the crutches for a moment before following the colonel. As the door shut behind them, he tapped his radio button to call for a clean up crew.

oOo

Rodney sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, watching Carson examine John's leg as he asked the colonel questions. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see John grimace ever so often. A few minutes later, Carson helped the pilot sit the rest of the way up and handed him a pill and some water. Rodney laughed at the verbal argument that ensued, with Carson obviously winning out when John swallowed the pill. He started to get off the bed, but Carson pushed him back and lectured him some more until John eased back against the pillows, his arms crossed in defiance.

Carson backed up a step, watching John for a few more seconds before turning around and walking over to Rodney.

"Well, did he hurt himself?"

Carson shook his head. "No, just his pride. The jarring he took made his leg hurt, especially occurring right after physical therapy like that, but he didn't injure it further. He's pretty shaken up, although he won't admit it, so I gave him something to ease the pain and relax him."

Rodney nodded. "He . . . he kind of scared me for a minute. He just . . . totally zoned out on me. I wasn't expecting it. It's been several weeks now and he's handled everything so well that I just . . . I thought he was okay."

"It's all right, Rodney. It's just his way. He's bottled it all up like he always does and ever so often, something happens to break the dam, letting everything flow out at once. Then it's just too much to handle. That's why it's so important that his team keeps tabs on him after something like this. Stubborn fool won't let anyone knowingly help him."

"Stubborn fool is right," muttered Rodney as he ran a hand nervously through his hair.

Carson watched him for a moment. "I firmly believe that stubborn fools come in pairs around here."

Rodney's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes in a muted glare. "Just what are you trying to say? Spit it out, Carson."

Carson sighed loudly. "I haven't heard you say much about what happened to the colonel, about what he did."

Rodney waved his hand dismissively at the physician. "Oh, that. _I_ didn't need to say anything about what happened. I wasn't the one sawing my leg off in the wilderness in some hair-brained scheme to climb down off a mountain with one leg while bleeding to death. What is there for me to talk about?"

His voice had been slowly rising in volume and pitch, and as he finished, he noticed John leaning up on one elbow watching him. He had no idea what to say or do, so he just sat there looking across the room as John lay back down on the bed, silently staring at the ceiling.

"Maybe you should go talk to him," suggested Carson. "It might do you both a world of good."

Rodney shook his head. "No, Carson . . . I don't do the talking thing . . . and neither does he. We just . . . we don't . . . heck, I don't know what we do."

Carson smiled as he slid his hands in his coat pockets. "Then go do whatever it is that the two of you _do_ do and you better go do it quickly."

Rodney looked at Carson blankly. "What?"

Carson gave him his patently warning glare. "You know what I mean." Carson didn't wait for an answer, but simply walked into his office.

Rodney continued to watch John for a few moments. He was still staring at the ceiling with his hands folded across his chest. Rodney finally slid off the bed and ambled over to the colonel. John's leg was propped on a pillow, splotches of faded bruises still visible here and there.

"So . . . I guess you have to stay for nap time."

John continued to look at the ceiling. "Yeah. I told you not to bring me here."

"Well, you are an adult and could have gone your own way at any time. I didn't have a gun to your head."

John grunted. "True." After a few moments, he shifted his eyes down to Rodney. "So, I've been a little dense lately. How are you handling all this?"

Rodney's face flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor. "I'm okay. Like I told Carson, I'm not the one who . . . you know."

"I know, but you had to see the aftermath. I guess I've been so busy trying to bury my own demons, I didn't think about how it might affect you guys."

"I'll be fine, colonel. I thoroughly expect to be able to close my eyes one day soon without seeing you poised over your leg with a bloody knife, looking like death warmed over."

John winced as he looked down at his leg. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm kind of waiting for the mental images to fade myself. Are Ronon and Teyla okay with this?"

Rodney pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. "Oh, yeah, better than either of us. Ronon says he knew a guy that cut off his arm when he was trapped in some rubble. You know him, a story for every situation. I don't guess there's anything he hasn't seen or done."

John smiled at that. "Probably not. What about Teyla?"

Rodney nodded. "I think she's okay, too. Worried about you mostly. You know how she likes to mother us all."

John chuckled without answering and then got quiet. "Rodney . . . I'm sorry. I just . . . "

"You've already explained this, colonel. I see no reason to go over it again. I understand. I have no idea how you could do something like that, but I do understand why you did it. I just . . . could never do that myself."

They were silent for several minutes before John raised up on one elbow again. "If it makes you feel any better, I could never do it again."

Rodney laughed. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. Do us all a favor and don't ever get yourself in that position again."

"Humph. I'll try to remember that." John yawned and lay back against the pillows again.

"I have one more question that you never answered. What was the point of the nature boy trek? You never told me what you had to think about so badly that you felt the need to risk life and limb . . . literally."

John rubbed the side of his face and then his eyes. "Rodney . . . I don't really do this well. I have a hard time . . . you know." His mind was suddenly filled with images of his talk with Teyla and the way she kept filling in the sentences he couldn't finish. But Teyla wasn't here and he had no idea if he could finish one complete thought on his own.

"I do know, colonel, because in case you haven't been paying attention, I'm not very good at this stuff either. Just . . . tell me what's wrong."

John stared at the ceiling again. "Rodney . . . "

"_Now_, colonel. I'm not leaving until you spill it. Or at least leak enough so I'll know if I need to worry or not."

John laughed at that. Maybe he could leak enough information so McKay would be happy. "You have to understand, McKay, I've spent my life . . . pushing people away. I lost my mom when I was pretty young. When you move around a lot as a kid and nothing you do is good enough for your dad, you figure out early it's just . . . easier if you keep everyone at an arm's distance. Especially when the few times you do let yourself get close to someone . . . you disappoint them . . . or they end up dead."

Rodney was silent for several seconds while John shifted around uncomfortably. "I think we have more in common than you think," said Rodney softly.

John looked at the man and then back down at his feet. "Maybe so. Anyway . . . I guess I've recently figured out that . . . well, uh, this whole thing with Ronon kind of made me realize that I've let certain people . . . oh, crap, Rodney, don't make me do this."

John squirmed around on the bed, trying not to jostle his leg too much as he looked for a blanket to pull over his head. He finally gave a quick glance at Rodney, not sure what type a reaction he would be getting.

"Me too."

John went still. "What?" He brought his eyes up to meet McKay's.

Rodney just smiled. "I think I understand now. I think maybe I was holed up my lab for the same reason you were playing nature boy, it's just my lab is apparently much safer than the wilderness."

John suddenly realized why he and Rodney clicked, why they seemed to be able to communicate even though neither of them had the social skills to verbalize their emotions. They carried a lot of the same kind of baggage and apparently erected the same kind of walls, just in different ways. He thought about how much Rodney had changed over the past three years. Rodney's walls were crumbling in the same way John's were.

John started laughing. He'd gone to the far reaches of the planet for answers that were right in front of him. He'd almost gotten himself killed fretting over the revelation that he finally had a family after all these years, people who really cared about him. He felt like such a dork.

Rodney laughed with him for several minutes before calming himself. "Why are we laughing again?"

John smiled, his eyelids fighting for the right to close. "Because we're okay, Rodney. We were both okay all the time, we just didn't know it."

Rodney took a deep breath, smiling as understanding began to creep in. "Yeah, I guess we are."

THE END

_Extra big thanks for everyone reading and reviewing. You guys give me such a rush. Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time. TTFN._


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